


Because of Prom Night

by TeamB



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Apritello, F/M, Pregnancy, Teenage Parents, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamB/pseuds/TeamB
Summary: April gets pregnant on Senior Prom night; how cliché. Not as cliché in concerns to the father.
Relationships: Donatello/April O'Neil (TMNT)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 97





	1. Drunken Confession

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been a Donnie/April junkie since 2003, and decided it's about time I write a fic for them. I've got a couple of ideas in concerns for the pairing and just might bounce around the various universes. Watch out TMNT fandom, here I come!

“Look, I’m sorry I tried to upload my ‘D’s Most Scientifically Sound Hits For Energetic Dancing’ into the DJ’s soundboard, thus short-circuiting their shamefully low-running UPC, thus sending a surge to do the same to the school breaker panel, thus creating a fire, thus calling in the fire department. But I’ll tell you this that those siren lights were more coordinated than whoever was in charge of the dull watts in the gymnasium.”

“That would be Dale. Tech-savvy, but rhythm-challenged.”

Donatello nodded. “Your school seems to have a habit of hiring the least qualified individuals.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” April rubbed at her throbbing temples. “You’ve got the nerve to come uninvited to _my_ senior prom decked out in . . .” Pushing the rim of her glasses up her nose, her blinking eyes looked down his form, all cloaked in glitching camouflage. “Whatever that is.”

“Ah, this is a cloaking device I reverse engineered from Sunita’s brooch. Per Newton’s third law: I had to test it out and tonight was the perfect opportunity.” Donatello looked proud of his creation even though he kept flickering from grinning turtle to a dark-haired, thick browed, purple clad teenager.

April sighed. “Donnie, you and I both know that your test-runs turn up on the wrong side of effective. You practically glitched out right when the lights came on! _Everyone_ saw you.”

“That was _after_ I bedazzled them with my dance moves, along with my footsy dance partner, of course.” His wink was cringey and god-awful, his rising laughter a moment later was as if he were trying to laugh away all the evening’s offenses. “Besides, there was obviously something in that punch.” A hiccup interrupted the genius turtle’s sentence for a moment and encouraged a similar sound from April. “Yeah, I doubt they’ll even remember what they saw. Might remember the fire though . . .”

Sitting there on the curb while watching the firemen file in and out of the school and gathered students slowly disappear as parents came to pick them up, April let out a sigh while leaning back, not even concerned for the cleanliness of her yellow prom dress.

“It’s all tradition. You know, social norms, so it’s fine, it’s fine. On the bright side, at least it was just a fire. God knows there’s been worse.”

“Now you’re seeing what I’m seeing, April.” Donatello leaned back as well, both taking in the sight as the care and concern filtered out of their systems while the hard punch took up residence.

“You know what? I’m glad you did it. Who needs a perfect prom night anyways? Nah-uh, not April O’Neil.” Standing up on shaky feet, April shook her resolve back into herself. “If there’s going to be a perfect night then I’ll have to make it perfect.” She looked down at her watch. “It’s only 7 anyway. Whadaya say, D? You wanna get outta here and make tonight remember us by causing a little havoc?”

Donatello bounced up to attention. “Shell. Yes.”

April felt a hand touch hers. She looked down. Donatello was holding it.

“Before we go off into the wiles of the night and encroach on the likelihood that we will forget the best and worst parts of it all, I just want to take this opportunity while I am 83.0007% sure I’m inebriated but self-aware enough to know I need to say it, to tell you: you look beautiful.”

He looked at her with a softer smile. There was something in his eyes right then that April couldn’t place, she blamed it on the alcohol in her system, as she did for the slight heat seeping into her face, and even the way she grasp his hand in return before they scampered off to forget a very memorable night.


	2. What A Night

There were flickers, scenes that became clear one moment and then unfocused the next. So very similar to a dream where in the moment you could recollect everything about it, but as time passes the details of it all escapes. Maybe it was a dream. Sure.

That was all April could connect it to as she came to the conscious world in small intervals. The first time she almost woke up, April felt like a burrito, wound up and still. It wouldn't be the first time she rolled herself in her sheets throughout the night. At least she was warm. The second time she almost came to with a flutter of her eyelids was when the distance noises from the outside world pitched through the walls of her apartment. God, didn't people have other things to do than honk their horns at every jaywalker? The third time was the strangest. There was a narrator, and oddly enough he sounded like Donatello.

_You're asleep. Keep sleeping, keep sleeping, don't wake up._

"Ok, I won't," she vaguely remembers herself thinking—or answering, one of those.

_Good, ok, now dream about . . . dinner. It's pizza, an extra, extra-large with asiago cheese, provolone, mozzarella, basil, uncured pepperoni, oh, and mushrooms. You like mushrooms right?_

Brows furrowed and lips twitched. "Mmm, not feeling pizza tonight, mom."

_How do I even remotely sound like your mother? I-I mean, no pizza? How does ice cream sound? Neapolitan? I’ve never seen you pass on the sweets._

Despite the faint recollection that her stomach was trying to signal its churning state, April smiled, shifting. "Yep, and that’s never gonna to change."

_Hhhah, I can’t believe this is working. Good, stay asleep and eat your ice cream. Oh, and don't forget about your math homework. It's due!_

April sighed, groaning in frustration as she pushed her head further into her pillow to drown out all the sounds around her. She dozed off a little while after that. The fourth time April woke up it was because of the sunlight beaming through her poorly concealing blinds. That time she stayed awake.

"Mnnnuh." Moving was a challenge. All April wanted to do was stay nestled in her sheets. But she knew her parents would be in any moment complaining that she needs to get ready for school.

School . . .

"Ah! My homework!" April's rising startle had her tumbling out of bed into her mess of a room. "Ooh, ow."

Seating herself upright, April's heavy eyes and throbbing head took in the state of her room. It looked as if a hurricane came through. There were cartons of milk thrown a-strew, empty boxes of Oreos, disks of DVDs and their empty cases—the movie genres seemed to lean toward Sci-Fi—there was even half eaten pizza near her computer. Her stomach rolled at the sight. No wonder she was dreaming about eating pizza. Honestly, she was surprised her parents let her have so much junk food in her room.

Oh, that's right. They're on vacation in Tahiti.

Inhaling a breath, April realized how hard her lungs took it. With another moan she moved her fingers to rub at her throbbing skull. It absolutely let her know it wasn’t going away anytime soon. And on top of that monstrosity she was sore all over. Like she had an all-night pass to a trampoline park.

“Ow.” April forced herself to stand up. Her sheets slipped from her making her regret leaving them behind when the components of the AC unit pushed cool air against her bare skin. On top of her aches, the trailing goosebumps made the senior shiver.

Winding arms around herself, April noticed she had passed out in nothing but her underwear. Shoot, she was even still wearing her watch and ankle bracelet. Her prom dress was crumpled on the other side of the bed, forgotten in the rest of her mess.

Fixing a fallen bra strap into its proper place, April trudged through the junk in her room to clear a spot for her to sit down at her computer to relax upright. With a sigh, she logged onto her system to scroll through the news, just to put anything on to help her morning. Thank God she didn’t have school because as the day unfolded and her body woke up to the pains she was coming to know very well, she would definitely label this as a “sick day.”

Her pulsing head took relief in the mindless articles passing across the screen until a short news clip reeled in about the evening before. It was in concerns to a school fire, the name of which passed below the news anchor on the headline. Suddenly, April could smell the faint scent of smoke, the source of which coming from the dress beside her bed.

There was no relief for her aching head when she remembered the fire and _who_ started it.

Pulling out her phone with grit teeth, April’s waking fingers began tapping away. “Donnie . . .”

. . .

All three turtles suspiciously ended up at the entrance of Donatello’s room at exactly the same time that morning. They glared at one another, silently trying to determine if their brothers’ reason for approaching the room was similar or not to their own.

“Whatchu need Donnie for?” Raphael asked with narrowing eyes.

“No reason,” Leonardo replied in his own narrowed gaze. “Just need to ask him something.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“How about yourself, Raph?” Leonardo turned the questioning. “You’re here too. Obviously you want to ask him something too.”

“So what if I do,” Raphael shot back. “That’s between me and Donnie.”

“And so is mine,” Leonardo said.

“I just want to know if he really was at Jumping Jehoshaphat’s last night!”

Both Raphael and Leonardo turned toward their youngest brother and eyed his outburst. Michelangelo’s eyes were wide and his mind obviously strained with unbearable curiosity. Suddenly, the two were hunkered close to him, voices low just in case their too-smart brother was able to hear their conversation through his door.

“You saw him at Jumping Jehoshaphat’s?” Leonardo questioned, throwing an arm around Michelangelo to reel him in closer.

“On top of that, what were _you_ doing at Jumping Jehoshaphat’s?” Raphael asked secondly.

“For the 60 Meter Dive Challenge, of course,” Michelangelo retorted with fists on his hips. “I was there after closing trying to catch my epic moment on camera when I noticed I wasn’t alone. There I was at the top of the diving board ready to jump after taking a few seconds to prepare myself, or minutes—hours—but the point is when I was about to jump I saw Donnie.”

“So Donnie was at Jumping Jehoshaphat’s.” Leonardo concluded from his brother’s story.

Michelangelo nodded fervently. “From my vantage point I saw him! He was all over the place doing the sickest of bounces! It was like he was possessed or something. AND the strangest part of it all was that he wasn’t alone.”

“Who was with him?” Raphael asked.

“April!” Michelangelo exclaimed. “At least I think it was her. It was a little hard to tell from where I was. She had so much makeup on and her hair was done up differently, and I’ve never really seen her in a dress or heels before, so maybe it wasn’t her. Let’s just say it was. But she was there beside him, taking part in the craziest parkour stunts and it was ALL caught on my phone!”

“No way,” Leonardo and Raphael leaned away, their faces disbelieving for some strange reason. “Let’s see it then.”

That’s when their youngest brother gapped. “Well, you see. I don’t have it.”

“What, your phone?” Raphael asked with a raised brow.

Michelangelo nodded, eyes moving away. “I propped it in the opening loophole on the scaling wall. Donnie happened to bounce through it and noticed it. That was when he took it and said, ‘This is Michel’s phone. I will keep it on my person so I can return it to him.’ Or something like that.”

“Losing the one device with all the self-proclaimed evidence; how convenient,” Raphael said while he crossed his arms.

“It’s true, I swear!” Michelangelo bade, tugging on his elder brothers.

“And just when did this happen?”

“Around 10!” Michelangelo swore. “Or 11, maybe it was 12.”

“Your times seems to be contradicting themselves, brother.” Leonardo’s eyes were narrowed with no pity to pull him to believe his youngest brother.

“I didn’t have my phone!” Michelangelo complained and excused away his lack of grasp for time.

“If that were true then why didn’t you come home and tell us? You didn’t get back until 5 in the morning,” Raphael mentioned.

“It took me a little while to get down from the diving board, alright!”

The older two shared looks before shrugging him off.

“Do you believe him, Leo?” Raph looked toward Blue.

“Can’t say that I do, Red,” Leonardo replied.

“What?” Michelangelo seemed outraged, especially by that pitch in his voice. “Why?!”

“Because around your claimed time _I_ saw dear Donatello,” Leonardo said with a growing smile.

“You too?” Raphael’s face fell in confusion. “Where?”

“The pizza pit at Bro’s Pizza.”

“You went to Bro’s Pizza without us?” Suddenly both Michelangelo and Raphael smeared with devastation. Leonardo though only rolled his eyes.

“First off, Raph was MIA, and I wasn’t going to wait four hours just for Mikey to get his scared shell down from Jumping Jehoshaphat’s sixty meter diving board. It was a solo night to a place where even rockette rodents are looked on as typical. I fit right in, and it was BOGO day.”

“So where does Donnie come into all of this?” Raphael asked.

“I’m getting there,” Leonardo said with a purse of his lips. “So there I was: four pizzas down—”

“Slices?” Michelangelo inquired.

Once more Leonardo’s animated expressions died to looks of offense. “Really, Mikey? What do you take me for? No, four _pies_. As I waited for the fifth and sixth sometime around 10 the girls changed songs. This one was a real crowd pleaser. I swear I could feel the whole joint shake from the energy. It was enough to pull me away from five and six, and I about jumped in to the surf that bad baby, however I was beat to it. Those screaming fans had another turtle in their hands and completely forgot about me.”

“Donnie?”

“Yeah, it was,” Leonardo said with a nod. “And can you believe the crowd even surfed him onto stage to sing? It was cringe worthy, really, but I think after all the pizza and pop in everyone’s system they really became tone deaf.”

“How long was he there for?” Raphael asked.

“I want to say for two songs, it might have been three actually. That wasn’t the focus point of my night really.”

“Oh yeah, and what exactly was?” Michelangelo crossed his arms this time. His upset pout still present.

“When I went back to my booth both five and six were _gone_. It was devastating!”

Raphael and Michelangelo made sure to show their brother no pity for his heartbreak in their stoic features.

“Donnie steal your pizza?” Raphael asked. “Nothing new.”

“But it wasn’t Donnie!” Leonardo swore. “Because he sang for one more song before disappearing like my pizza!”

“Did you follow him then?”

“No.”

Raphael rose a curious brow now. “Why not?”

“Because I had better things to do.”

“Like?”

“Like wait for seven and eight,” Leonardo said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Honestly, it should have been.

“Okay, okay, so Mikey saw Donnie—and possibly April—at Jumping Jehoshaphat’s around 10 or 11ish, and Leo saw D at Bro’s Pizza around the same time.” Raphael paused, assessing it all. “Honestly, I’m going to have to disagree with both my brothers.”

“What?!” Leonardo and Michelangelo were crowding him now, brows furrowed and teeth grit.

“You calling me a liar?” Michelangelo pressed.

“I can’t make up that tragedy!” Leonardo recoiled.

“I’m sorry, guys, but I just can’t believe you when _I_ saw Donnie around the same time,” Raphael revealed.

“What? Where?”

“No wonder I couldn’t find you in the lair.”

“I was out . . . taking Buddy on a walk.”

There was a quiet from both Michelangelo and Leonardo before their faces shifted at the exact same time.

“You were out walking Buddy?” Leonardo gave Michelangelo a look and he returned it with a nod. “He’s not a dog, Raph.”

Raphael straightened, holding his stance. “I know that! But he’s been cooped up in here for so long I thought some fresh city air would do him good.”

“Please tell me you didn’t take him to a dog park,” Leonardo chimed in.

“I didn’t!” Raphael bit back. “I took him to central park.”

Both Michelangelo and Leonardo slapped their faces, hiding their rolling eyes.

“Anyways, there me and Buddy were, it was late, the midnight joggers that passed didn’t think anything about us. It was Buddy’s idea to play catch, he really liked the game and I think he got a lot of pent up energy out. But then one time when I tossed the Frisbee he didn’t come back.”

“Wait, Buddy’s missing?” Michelangelo’s wide eyes filled with worry.

“No, he’s here, but he was for a little while last night,” Raphael further explained. “I got worried and went looking for him. That was when I heard Buddy’s distressed cries. I rush over and find him next to Webster with his arms bending back and legs folding in by two culprits! While the nearby lantern definitely needs someone to change the bulb, I could still make out Donnie. He was laughing, you guys, _laughing_ as he bent and folded Buddy into a . . . a . . . a paper plane!”

“Did he fly though?” Leonardo asked.

“Of course he did! D’s accomplice pushed him off! It was too dark to see who it was, but it was someone!”

“That’s neat. I didn’t know Buddy could fly,” Michelangelo commented.

“Neat? NEAT?” Raphael huffed. “In the end _I_ was the one playing fetch. I never saw Donnie again after that. He just vanished into the night. And it took me forever to bend Buddy back too!”

“And that was around . . .?”

“10,” Raphael stated. “Well, it could have been 11, or 12. I was out playing with Buddy for a while.”

“So that’s why you don’t believe us?” Leonardo asked. “At least I have evidence unlike Mikey here.”

“What evidence?!” Michelangelo squeaked.

“My missing pies,” Leonardo explained as-a-matter-of-factly.

“How is that any better than _MY_ lost phone?!”

“Alright enough!” Raphael shouted. “How about we all settle this by asking Donnie, hm?” He gathered both his brothers into his arms. “That’s why we’re all here right?”

Michelangelo and Leonardo nodded. “Right.”

All three turned and then proceeded to open their purple clad brother’s room door.

“Donnie?” When they approached they noticed a form seated at the computer desk. It was hunched over, vials in its hands. At the call it jerked and whatever it had been mixing sloshed out.

“You okay, D?” Leonardo moved closer and noticed the monitors. There were various videos in one corner, and in the other there were tabs filled with searches. He noticed a majority of them had to do with “remedies for hangovers.”

The figure—Donatello sat there a moment before he put the vials down. Turning slowly in his chair, he then proceeded to stare at his brothers with straight lips and goggle concealed eyes.

“Donnie?” Michelangelo asked once more.

Finally, the fourth brother moved the goggles from his eyes, sliding them up his head. Out of obstruction, the three could see his bloodshot corneas, tagged along were the weary dark circles underneath them.

“Looks like you had a rough night—could it be because you were at the pizza pit?” Leonardo pushed in.

“No he wasn’t!” Michelangelo defended. “You were at Jumping Jehoshaphat’s last night, weren’t you? AND you took my phone, admit it!”

When Donatello pushed his face into his hands and rubbed his knuckles along his eyes, as the eldest, Raphael took it upon himself to jump to his defense.

“Guys, guys! Enough!” He stood between Donatello and the other two. “Can’t you see our brother isn’t feeling well? We can be better than this, right?” Turning he leaned down and placed a comforting hand on his ailing brother. “It’s alright, D, I got you. All I ask of you is to explain why you folded Buddy up into a paper plane.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Michelangelo complained.

“Yeah!” Leonardo seconded. “You can’t coerce him to agree with you! That’s my thing!”

“Will all of you just be quiet for like three minutes?!” Donatello’s bout quieted them, and as time ticked by with the three watching their brother rub his face, a glance down at his beeping wrist pad had him saying, “I can’t believe you actually listened. Mmnuh, I needed that.”

“You gotta come clean, Donnie. Where were you last night?” Raphael questioned once more.

Leaning back, Donatello looked up at the ceiling with a weariness that the three weren’t used to seeing. After a sigh, he spoke. “To answer your previous questions, yes, yes, and yes. In regards to last night, there’s a high probability I was there and everywhere else too.”

“There and everywhere else? What are you talking about?” Leonardo questioned. “And what even is this?” He held up one of the vials, sniffing the liquid inside before gagging.

Donatello quickly snatched it away. “ _That_ is Tanker54’s home concoction for a hangover reliever. I have yet to see if it works.”

“Hangover concoction? Just what were you up to last night?” Raphael pressed, giving his brother a poke just as the purple banded turtle tried to digest the liquid.

“Dude, are you wasted?” Leonardo was giggling as he slung an arm over Donatello, giving him a few pats. “Isn’t that like illegal? You’re sixteen.”

“That is correct, Nardo,” Donatello replied, his stinging eyes looking on in frustration as his brother’s ministrations made him spill his concoction all over his computer desk. Great, so it was back to square one—again. “However, I’ll have you know it was unintentional on my end, but the results were something else entirely.”

“What kind of results?” Michelangelo leaned in close as well.

Once more Donatello swerved in his chair. Despite his strained face he cracked a smile and patted his palms together. “I had a date with destiny herself, boys, and through hacked traffic and security cameras I have it well documented.” He pressed a button on his wrist device and across his monitors came everything the three had claimed their brother had done.

“Woohoow. Okay, now the question is: do you remember doing any of that?” Leonardo was all smiles and amazement at what he was seeing as well as remembering.

“Absolutely not,” Donatello answered with arms crossed. “Except for a few things which shall remain confidential for plot convenience.”

“Is that April?” Michelangelo pointed out to the figure on screen darting off with two pizzas in hand.

“So SHE stole five and six!” Leonardo gasped, grabbing his plastron. “The betrayal hurts.”

“Oh, yeah, she was there. After I burnt down her school I guess she tagged along in it all.” Donatello shrugged even as his brother’s faces dropped.

“What do you mean you burned her school down?” Michelangelo questioned.

“That would explain why I was smelling smoke on mine and Buddy’s evening walk,” Raphael muttered to himself.

“At least tell us the things you remember,” Leonardo begged.

Donatello only shook his head with a straight face. “No can do, Leo. Not until the shame wears off.”

Leonardo sighed. As did Michelangelo and Raphael.

Suddenly, Donatello’s phone went off. Holding up a finger, he motioned for a cease fire as he pulled out his cell and looked at the pager. “Excuse me for a minute, Mikey’s calling.” Pressing ‘answer’ he put the phone up to his ear. “Yes, Michel?”

While Donatello’s phone wasn’t on speaker, the person on the other end was loud enough to be heard from clear across the lair.

‘ _Donatello! Get over here right now and clean up the mess you left! Mom and dad are coming back tomorrow and I’m not going to be stuck with having to do it by myself! And you better use that big head of yours to find a cure for this killer hangover because I’m not dealing with it!_ ’

The screeches made Donatello’s face scrunch and then confused eyes looked at the caller ID before he looked over at his youngest brother. Michelangelo just stood there amongst his giggling brothers, arms crossed.

“Found my phone,” he muttered.

Leonardo let out a laugh after April abruptly hung up her one-sided conversational demand. He leaned over and patted his brother’s shell. “So, was destiny’s name April?” He laughed again. “Hee, better you than any of us. I wouldn’t keep her waiting, D.”

Even amongst the harassment on both ends, and the throbbing tearing his brain to shreds, Donatello still felt his face heat the moment he covered it with his despairing hands. What a night he had.


	3. Pregnant

“I’m pregnant.”

April stood frozen. Eyes wide and jaw slack. How was she supposed to react to that kind of information? It was earth-shattering and life-changing, especially at an age like hers when high school was drawing to a close and the prospect of college came into mind. After the blankness moved away, all April could think of was: what’s going to happen now?

There Jennifer stood, shaking, with unshed tears welling up in her eyes. April had known her since third grade, and as they entered high school together, coming into this exit the news she gave was something completely unexpected.

“Oh . . .” What was April supposed to say? How could she even help in a situation like this? “How . . .?”

Sniffling, Jennifer shifted. “I’m pretty sure it was Prom night. I haven’t been feeling well for some time and after the doctor’s appointment during lunch it was confirmed. What am I going to do, April?”

Biting her bottom lip, April racked her brain. Like she knew? She was on the cusp of graduation and the aspect of pregnancy—teenage pregnancy—was so far from her mind that this revelation hit her like a freight train.

“Does Tom know?” It takes two to tango, and April hadn’t seen Jennifer’s boyfriend for a few days now, silently wondering now if he was just avoiding her.

There was something in Jennifer’s eyes, especially when they darted away. “Actually, I’m a little fuzzy on the father. I dunno, I think the punch was spiked or something. I thought I left with Tom, but I honestly don’t remember.” She smiled shortly. “I remember when it happened, but I just can’t remember _who_ it happened with. Oddly enough, the only clear thing I do remember is smelling like smoke.”

The last comment made April sweat, but thanks to most of the seniors there, and that punch, not a soul remembered how the fire started. Thank God. However, Jennifer’s other statements brought April back to that March night and the reality that she was in a similar boat as her classmates with not being able to remember what happened most of the night after the fire, leaving curiosities and worries to catalog the possibilities of the rest of the evening. She couldn’t imagine finding herself in a scenario like that where her life tipped on its head and the other one responsible for that unchanging fate was nowhere to be found, or remembered.

For a brief moment an image of something intimate flashed into April’s head. It was of her and her evening partner. It was the strangest thought that ever pushed through her skull and she swore that the only reason it even came into existence was because of the topic she was currently entrenched in. Donnie touching her like _that_? No. No way. What an awful imagination April began to have.

Shaking her head and that uncomely image, April approached her classmate and placed comforting hands on her. “Hey, it’ll be okay. All you gotta do is survive the finals and then graduation is a hop skip away, even with a bun in the oven.”

“That’s easy for you to say, April,” the girl muttered sadly. "How am I supposed to go to college?”

Truth be told, Jennifer was right. It wasn’t easy for young mothers to attempt a college education. Jennifer might just have to settle for her diploma. But at least it was more than many other teenage mothers could have.

The mood for the rest of the day was filled with drama and disappointment. April wasn’t the only one in the school that found out about Jennifer’s condition. And when the faculty discovered this, classes were cut short and an assembly gathered in the gymnasium.

At the podium the Principle stood before the school and began drawing on and on about the unacceptable dangers of teenage pregnancy. He went on to show slides of girls already phased out of the school system over their life choices and how they just couldn’t keep up with the demand of their grades and rearing children at the same time. A lot of the faces April remembered in passing really. It was the last face, Jennifer, that really made her gut ache.

The world was an unpredictable and insatiable place to live, and an even harder terrain to survive in. However, April O’Neil was a fighter, as was her mother, as was her father. She figured she was doing a fine job so far and continued to move her life in that simple rhythm she’d figured worked for her.

After that eternal berating, April was glad to be back home. All she wanted was to fall face-first onto her bed and cuddle with Mayhem. Maybe even watch a little Jupiter Jim.

All the studying was making her eyeballs spin and with the current upsetting news, there needed to be some escapism in April’s life. Speaking of which, she had to tell the turtles.

Her video request was picked up in less than a few seconds after she sent it to Donatello. Instantaneously his face popped up on screen.

‘ _Yes, fair April, whatever is the business of this call?_ ’

“D, you can be real corny sometimes. Anyone ever tell you that?” April tried to refrain her giggles, but it wasn’t easy.

Donatello’s face dropped into annoyance as he sighed. ‘ _Yes, on multiple occasions_.’

“Relax, Donnie, you know I love ya,” April replied back with a wave of her hand. “Finals are coming up and I was wondering if you wanted to come over sometime for study sessions. I could use a partner that won’t fall asleep on me, as well as will keep me from falling asleep.”

Donatello’s annoyed face shifted. That toothy smile of his returned, as well as that academic sparkle in his irises. ‘ _You know I’m always down for a study hookup. Do you need to meet up tonight, or—?_ ’

“No, not tonight.” April let a sigh, feeling the wearies of the day lull her. An afternoon nap sounded so good right then, perhaps after she ended the call. “I’m thinking about tomorrow. Mom and dad have a weekend date. It’d be a good time then. Hhh. Wow, I can’t believe finals are already here. This is it, this is the end of high school.”

‘ _Ah, but it comes to a climactic close. You’ve had a fair run_ ,’ came Donatello’s response to her comments. ‘ _Before you know it you’re in graduation robes and then getting accepted into the finest of colleges_.’

College. Yeah. April still had a chance, but Jennifer? She just blew hers.

“Hey, Donnie. You remember Jennifer?”

‘ _Jennifer Collins? Didn’t you two go to middle school together?_ ’

April nodded. “She. . . she’s gonna have a baby.”

Just like April, she watched the purple banded turtle phase out of the conversation. There was absolutely nothing in his eyes for a split moment before he shook himself back to earth. ‘ _I’m sorry but did you say Jennifer Collins is going to have a baby? As in she’s pregnant?_ ’

April nodded, pursing her lips in pity. “Prom night. You know it’s a thing to . . .” April paused. Did Donatello and the others know about this common conception in regards to the infamous dance? If they didn’t, did she want them to know? “It’s typical for couples to leave together and spend the rest of prom night _together_.”

It looked like Donatello hadn’t known about this by the way his confused face morphed into acknowledgment, then into horror. Yeesh. She didn’t mean to scare him with cultural wisdom.

‘ _No way! Jennifer Collins is having a baby?!_ ’ There on screen came Leonardo, pushing his face in until Donatello was shoved off-screen. ‘ _Oh, you gotta tell us the details. Was it that shady boyfriend of hers, the basketball player Bernard?_ ’

“Actually, she was dating Tom at the time,” April corrected.

Leonardo’s eyes blinked wider. ‘ _Was? Are they no more because of this? Or, wait, was it another man? Ooooh, scandalous_.’

‘ _Who’s pregnant? April?_ ’ There was Michelangelo now, poking up from the corner, just underneath Leonardo.

‘ _No, Mikey, her friend is_ ,’ came Donatello’s correcting tone.

‘ _Oh! Can I see the baby when it comes? I love babies!_ ’ Michelangelo was all smiles as he bounced on screen, constantly bumping into his older brother’s chin.

“Yeah, you might have to stick to the internet for that, Mikey,” April said, just as sympathetic to see Michelangelo’s rising disappointment.

‘ _There’s a baby? Where?_ ’

Huffing out a sigh, April watched Raphael smoosh into view. Might as well get the whole set.

“No baby here, not even for Jennifer,” April replied. “It takes a while before they . . . come out. Anyways, because of that I had to sit through an assembly while the teachers and principle went on and on about the dangers of teenage pregnancy. I could have had better things to do with my time, you know. It’s still sad though.”

‘ _But why?_ ’ Michelangelo asked, his smile breaming. ‘ _Babies are so tiny and cute and squishy, and they smell good. I read that on a Yahoo article_.’

“Well, yeah, but it’s hard to raise one,” April explained. “Jennifer is lucky to be on the tail end of high school. Most girls drop out before they even get this far. And college, well, I doubt she’ll be able to focus on one.”

Leonardo tsked. ‘ _That’s just too bad. Tom’ll have to step up, or whoever the mystery man is. Hopefully it’s Tom because I really can’t think of anyone else, expect Jason, the band drummer. Could be him too_.’

April nodded, roaming her eyes over her room before she noticed a stack of mail nestled on her desk. Her mom always put the pieces there when she could. Might as well give them a look through.

‘ _If Jennifer’s having a baby, when exactly will she have it?_ ’ Raphael offhandedly asked.

Coupons for the Foot Shack, credit card promotions, miscellaneous surveys, application status for Cornell University. Oh, hello.

‘ _Well, if it was conceived around the evening of the Prom dance then that puts the due date in the month of January_ ,’ came Donatello’s calculated response.

‘ _A New Year’s baby. How cute!_ ’

April smiled at the acceptance letter and then noticed another three college letters. She really hadn’t expected so many responses at once, but she eagerly opened them all the same. It was that last one that made her gap.

“You guys!”

All talk of baby fizzled away when the four looked at April’s excited face. She was waving a piece of paper in front of the screen. “Look, look! It’s an Amber Hills letter!”

Out of all of them, Donatello was the one to push through with a gasp mirroring April’s. Even his excited smile was identical to the one she wore. ‘ _THE Amber Hills University in upstate? One in two thousand applications are approved with candidates being picked for their various skills and academic achievements. Great minds go there and come out pools of refined knowledge. April, tell me that’s an acceptance letter!_ ’

“IT IS!” April knew from the quality that there was no way for the four to see the letter’s paragraphs and signatures, but it was all there, short and sweet, a definite invitation for her to join the prestigious school she’d been eyeing ever since she stepped foot in high school.

‘ _That’s my April!_ ’ Donatello shot his arms upward, celebrating along with April’s enthusiastic screeches.

‘ _But isn’t that that far away school?_ ’ Michelangelo’s disappointed vocals fluttered through, downcast enough to disrupt the ongoing excitement.

“Well yeah, of course,” April said. “It’s upstate.”

‘ _How are we supposed to visit?_ ’ The shimmer in his eyes was enough to shatter April’s hope to continue her celebration.

“I mean I can visit; on holidays, during summer. It’s not like you won’t see me again.”

Michelangelo sighed. ‘ _But that’s a lot less than what we’re used to_.’

April let that statement sink in. She’d known the brothers for seven years, going on eight. They were her best friends, and she was theirs, but she was on the cusp of adulthood and that meant leaving the nest and moving to faraway places like upstate New York. It’s a part of life.

It was obvious Michelangelo’s comments were putting a downward spirit on his brothers. The more they mulled over his words, the more their faces fell away from pride and excitement. Their April was going to leave them.

“Hey, look. I still got time before college even starts. Finals are currently running me over. Donnie, I’m going to need your help with that. And then if the Math, History, and English gods are all pleased I’ve got graduation to prepare for. Mikey, you’ll be my partner in crime for that. Then there’s all of summer. Leo and Raph, I know you won’t let there be a dull moment during then.”

April was glad she got the boys to pull out smiles. She could see the sadness in their eyes, but they would make it through, as would she. They had to because April O’Neil was now an adult and it was time to deal with adult matters; like graduation, and college, and babies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I'm diverting things alot, but April's time with come . . .


	4. Graduation

April poked her head out of the changing booth. The room she was given was small enough for individual privacy, but large enough to hold four further persons.

"Mikey, are you done with my cap yet?"

"Just putting on the last touches now," Michelangelo replied with a wide grin and paint brush in hand. With a glance back he blinked and then gapped. "April, no! You're not supposed to let anyone see you until _after_ the ceremony!"

"That's a wedding tradition, not a graduation one," Donatello informed, poking his little brother in the back of the head with his tech-bo before turning his attention to where April had appeared. He was smiling. "You look great, April. This is going to be one of the most memorable days, I know it."

April's smile mirrored as she pulled back the curtains and gave a fancy twirl to show off her robes. "Why thanks. I think you're right again there, Donnie."

"Do you have your speech ready?" Leonardo asked from where he sat crouched next to Michelangelo.

April shook her head. "That's for the valedictorian. I'm smart, guys, but English kicked my butt this year. It's cool, though. I wouldn't know what to say. I'm still pretty speechless just by being here, right here, ready to, you know . . . graduate." Her fingers wrapped in the dark fabric of her graduation robes. It was light, but weighty in the sense, like how the upcoming world felt like.

"All done!" Michelangelo announced, and as soon as he had, the others crowded around to see his masterwork.

Atop April's cap was the painting of a pizza—typical—the toppings consisting of five familiar smiling faces.

"Oho, nice!" Raphael cheered. "We're all on a pizza together."

Michelangelo nodded, rubbing at his paint smeared hands. "There's no closer place to heaven than the top of a pizza. And what's heaven without your friends and family beside you?"

April really thought it would be after the ceremony where she would have to watch out for the waterworks. But there she was, removing her glasses and rubbing at her stinging eyes.

"You guys!" Arms flung and wound around them all, squishing bodies and shells together. "I love you so much!"

Their love made their embrace strong and tight and it put reluctance in their souls when they parted.

It was Donatello who plopped the cap atop April's head. "Now get out there and get that diploma."

April nodded with watery eyes and turned and left the room. The four stood in silence. Silence that they knew they'd have to soon get used to.

"This sucks, guys," Michelangelo commented, laying his painted hands over his plastron.

Raphael and Leonardo made approving sounds, but it was Donatello who stood tall and reasonable. He had to despite his hammering heart.

"We need to be happy for her. It's only fair." Despite his comment, Donatello still felt like the one being dealt with the lousiest hand. While he was used to it, this time around, it hurt just so much more.

In the shadows they watched April O'Neil walk across the stage and take up her diploma. They watched as her immediate family stood and cheered. They watched as she rose her fists into the air in triumph, and as that wide proud smile of hers grew when her bright eyes turned toward where she knew they were. She had the chance to wave in their direction as she moved down the stairs and back toward her seat.

Every turtle fell asleep during the speeches except for Donatello who listened in avid interest with his eyes constantly pulled toward April's location. When the end was announced with a rising cheer and a tossing of tassels and caps, the three jolted alert.

"She did it! Our girl grad-u-ated!" Leonardo cheered.

"Yeah, now we gotta get back to the lair to finish up the decorations," Raphael bade. "She's gonna love it."

Even with the family's separated celebration, the turtles knew April wouldn't miss theirs. And they were right. At around 11:39 PM, the graduate climbed down into the lair in the darkness. When she moved about she bumped into a couple items before eventually vocalizing her disproval.

"Ow! Why on earth are the guys forgetting to change those bulbs?"

Suddenly, the lights flashed on. And just as the temporarily blinded human took the opportunity to rub her wounded eyes the exclamation rang through the sewers.

"SURPRISE!"

Blinking the dots out of her eyes, April's smile curled. Banners hung all over the place with "Congratulations!" and "Graduation!" and "Graduate!" There was even some impressive enlarged banners of her portrait. April believed that was Michelangelo's doing.

Down below were the turtles, and even Splinter, surrounding a cake taller than she was. Circling around were all sorts of junk food like pizza rolls, pizza bagels, pizza slices, chips and dip, burritos, and more. It looked like the setup had taken them all day, and from the pile of empty boxes and wrapping swept into the corner, it was safe to say they had just finished.

"Who's ready to indulge in all the goodies?!" Raphael sang with his arms outstretched.

"WE ARE!" his three brothers sang.

"And so am I," April said with a softer tone, but not less enthused.

"Presents first, presents first!" Leonardo announced. He was the first to pull his out and offer it to April. "Mine first, of course."

April looked at the item. With the way it was wrapped, it was obvious what it was, but she clicked her tongue and feigned surprise anyways. "I wonder what it could be . . . ohh, it's a Jupiter Jim action figure. Why, Leo, you shouldn't have."

"Ah, ah, don't make the remorse stronger," Leo said, waving her thanks away. "It was my most favorite. We've spent many a battle and bath together, and with it being so near and dear to me, I wanted you to have it. All I ask is that you treat him with the same respect I have."

April forced herself to keep smiling, teeth and all. "I sure will."

"Oh! Oh! Open mine!" Michelangelo snuck in after, waving his present in her face.

It didn't take long for April to open the gift and discover a yellow bandana decorated in sequins. She bat soft eyes at it and at the one who gave it to her.

"You're one of us, you always have been, so I thought it was time you got yourself your own bandana," Michelangelo said with his toothy smile.

"I love it," April said, holding it close to her heart.

"Then you'll love mine!" Raphael pushed in to hand her his small present.

Raising a brow as soon as she opened it, she held the dangling items up. "Pizza earrings?"

"They looked cool," Raphael explained. "Which means you'll look cool wearing them."

April nodded. Sound logic. Her eyes turned toward the last turtle then, as had the others. Donatello straightened under their gazes.

"Oh, it's my turn. Of course." He cleared his throat and then handed April his gift. A small box, precisely wrapped.

As April pushed the paper aside and then opened the box she noticed an odd looking watch was staring back at her. Holding it up, she looked it over for any idea of the reason for it.

"I know you, Donnie; what's it do?" She blinked expectedly at the purple clad turtle who shifted into tell mode with each passing millisecond.

"I'm glad you asked." Sliding toward her and where she held up the watch, he began pointing to various panels and sections. "This is tech-companion 6.8, a variation of my own. It can read time, temperatures, precipitation, kinetic energies, palms, atmospheric shifts, maps, email, tweets, voicemail. It's even got holovid. With one press of this button it'll scan your prints, retina, and facial signatures to craft a digital copy that'll act as an avatar in every social media profile, and one that can interact with my own." After a few swipes of his own watch, Donatello brought up a smaller variation of himself in holographic form. He looked so proud of himself. "And this button here will patch you through to me. It's an insta-call in case you need something, anything. I'll be over as soon as I can if you ever find yourself in that situation of assistance."

April's smile softened. She lightly shook her head, just accepting all of the gifts and the reasons behind them.

"I'm going to be over a hundred miles away," April said. "Your insta-assistance might take a while to come."

"That's fine. I'm currently in the reworking process for my hover shell. Not only am I reequipping it with a sounder structure, but I'm going to amplify the battery and router. It's going to be fast, faster than before. I'm sure I'll have it down by the time your college classes start. And on top of all that I—"

April moved to wrap her arms around him. Partly to quiet his ranting and partly to conceal her own emotions seeping out from her eyes. It worked on both parts.

"I love it." She pulled back and looked at the other three, quickly reaching out to motion them into a hug as well. "All of them."

"Oho, you thought theirs were good?"

Eyes turned toward Splinter. The rat stood a little ways from where the cake tower was. His usual smug grin shaped his features.

"You got me something too?" April untangled herself from the mess of limbs and gave the rat-man a side eye, a wary side eye.

"Of course I did, and it will greatly outshine anything my sons have constructed for you!"

April wasn't sure if she should prepare herself for disaster or disappoint. Or both.

"I offer you, April O'Neil, the hand of one of my sons."

"HUH?!"

That was when Splinter pulled out the bow-wound box he'd been keeping in his robe and held it up high as if it were supposed to be praised and worshipped. "To assist you in opening my most glorious present!"

Looks were shared and relief spent by the time April composed herself and then motioned toward Leonardo. "Leo, you're with me. But you get us out of here the second it turns bad, you hear?"

Leonardo nodded as he approached his father along with April. When the present was in her hands she hesitated. It was Leonardo who nudged her to continue, one hand helping her untie the ribbons while the other grasp the hilt of his sword—just in case.

When the box was opened, every young soul flinched. Nothing happened. April opened her eyes first and looked into the box and at the dark metallic piece.

"A fan?" She questioned when she unfolded the weighty object.

"Hey! It's grandma's tessen!" Raphael pointed out. "You're giving her that, pops?"

Splinter nodded. "April has been a part of this family long enough to inherit its heirlooms. Besides, my mother always wanted to pass on her weapon to a daughter—and then she had me—and then to a granddaughter—and then I had you four—so I thought it best to honor her legacy through the only daughter I've come to know."

April held the tessen close. "Aww, thanks Splinter!" She pulled him into a hug and lifted him off his feet for a surprising twirl before setting him back down and offering him a kiss on the cheek. "You're real sweet when you want to be, you know."

As Splinter rubbed his cheek with a flattered blush, April turned back to the boys and rose her fists.

"Alright! Who's ready to get this night started!?"

All four turtle brothers mimicked her enthusiasm and dove into the festivities and food. The cake tower didn't stand erect for long, and the pizzas went next. It was Raphael and Donatello on the Dance Dance machine, but as soon as Raphael mis-stepped and lost his place, Donatello motioned for April to join. When she was there beside him, doing her best to will her legs to move to avenge Raphael, she was brought back to months earlier when a certain teenager showed up unannounced in a form that couldn't conceal him from April's narrowed eyes, and then he started dancing—just like he was right then—he was good, just as he is now, but it made April laugh at the memory of it all, of which she blamed her unsteady memories to her loss in the end.

The laps around the ramp brought back nostalgia that April simply couldn't place. High up, seated on her bike, ready to push off and dip down into the loop, April believes she might have remembered the trampoline park where she summersaulted around and dove down into four by four trampolines, all in that frilly dress. The adrenaline coursing through her must have felt the same then. Because she honestly wouldn't have remembered it otherwise.

All these feelings of déjà vu continued throughout the night and her erratic times with the boys. Not all of them were in reference to that infamous night she barely remembered. Some feelings brought her back to younger years when she first met the turtles, and when they first began their fight with the likes of Baron Draxum or the Shredder. But as she sat down in front of the screen playing coed with the boys, the action of Donatello's shoulder bumping into hers as they pushed their race cars to the limit reminded April of a more enclosed area like her room, squinting at the split screen of her computer monitor. Donatello was there, April was sure of it. He was there looking at her with a look in his eyes, telling her things, secret things. It frustrated her that she couldn't put her finger on the memory as well, making her wonder if it was during _that_ night.

"April?"

Blinking back to reality, April noticed she was staring at her partner next to her. Donatello had a brow raised, but his eyes continued to dart away in a flustered manner.

"You crashed your vehicle," he said, pointing to the screen where her car was sizzling with a street lamp sticking out of it.

April sighed just in time for the winning alarm to sound for the opposing team. The other three cheered on their victory until Michelangelo rolled over with an armful of DVDs.

"It's movie time!" He announced before scrambling over toward the movie projector.

The moment April made to stand her knees and calves protested. Just how long had they been seated playing Street Tire anyways? She was lucky that her partner was there to offer her a hand, and jab another curious part of her brain.

"Thanks," she said as Donatello helped get her legs to wake up again. "Hey, D. Do you ever get, you know, flashes of things that seem like they happened, but you're not sure if they did?"

"Hm? You mean like déjà vu?" He questioned.

April let out a sigh, her eyes drifting toward where Michelangelo was struggling with the projector. "I mean I guess, but this time around I can't say that's what it is for certain when I know there are days, or should I say _nights_ , that are just missing. And I think, maybe, I'm just remembering something I don't consciously remember." She looked back at Donatello and noticed his deepening interest in her explanation and obvious hinted subject. "Do you ever get those? How much do you even remember from that night?"

Her last question seemed to affect the turtle in an odd way. He went rigid, eyes moving away to avoid hers. April would have pushed the question harder hadn't Splinter's annoyed voice echoed throughout the lair.

"Purple! Assist your brother before he breaks my TV!"

April would have asked later, but getting sucked into a marathon of Loud Jitsu and Jupiter Jim was too easy. As was letting the hours of the long productive day wear down her eyelids.

"No, no, no, no. You can't go to sleep. We're nowhere done with the Hot Soup collection!" Leonardo said as he pat April's frame.

She moaned, her heavy eyes opening again. What time was it even?

"Mmm, it's already 6 in the morning? Oooh, maaan. A girl needs her beauty sleep." She leaned up on the couch, stretching. She hadn't meant to stay out so late, but at least her parents believed she was having a sleepover with Sunita. They still weren't too keen on the turtles, nor where they took up residence. "Mmm, I think it's time for me to head home."

"Noooo!" It was Michelangelo who threw himself over her. "We're nowhere near done with the night's festivities!"

"Um, I think we are, Mikey," April said. "It's about sunup, night's gone."

"But . . . but . . ."

Shoving the youngest off of her, she rolled off the couch. In her movement, the turtles stood as well. April rose her brow, wondering if there was intention to stop her from leaving. If that were the case then she'd make sure to give them a fight they'd remember, that's for sure. "What is with you guys?" When she looked at them she noticed the instant the mood changed. They weren't smiling, they weren't even bickering amongst one another. They were just staring, all at her. "Why are you trying to keep me here?"

Leonardo let out a sigh. "Because we're going to miss you."

April blinked.

"We're trying to get the most out of our time together before you go off to college," Raphael spoke up. "We didn't mean to wear you out, we just all wanted to have a good time with you before . . . we can't anymore."

Rubbing at her temples for a moment, April shook her head. She couldn't help but smile at their sincerity and naivety. "We've got ALL of summer to hang, you know. I'm not going anywhere for a while which means it's up to you four to make it the best send-off. You think you can do that?"

"Oh yeah!" Michelangelo bounced up.

"You know it," Leonardo said with a wink.

"Of course," Donatello said after a short hesitation.

"Like a boss!" came Raphael's battle cry.

"Good." Plopping back down onto the couch, April hit play while the turtles eyed her.

"Wait, I thought you said you were tired," Donatello spoke up.

April nodded, turning her head to look at the boys. "You all woke me up with your pity party. Now I need some Jupiter Jim to give me back my z's." Her enthusiasm seemed to call the four back. And there she sat, surrounded, watching movies until her heavy eyes had her fall into a very pleasant sleep. April's morning and the rest of the day went along smoothly, and she was sure summer would as well.


	5. College Rejection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love and reviews. Please, keep them coming so that I can stay motivated and faithful to these fics! Haha

The sheets were soft, brushing gently against her back and arms, but the main focus was on the hands holding her, and those warm, luscious, and green lips over her own. His weight above her pressed her down into her mattress further, and April was ready to be engulfed by it all. But then he pulled back.

“Judging from the low-light atmosphere, the rise of hormonal chemical currents, and especially with where your hand is right now, our night is about to change into a completely different mood altogether. Unexpected, though not unwelcome. But I want to tell you before the swells of passion engulf us both that I love you, April O’Neil, I have for a very, very, very long time, and I’ve dreamt of a moment like this every night since I—”

Through sheer thigh strength, April had flipped them. There she sat, straddling his abdomen with her loosened prom dress slipping down her shoulders. “You keep talking and it’s going to remain a dream,” she said with a shake of her head. A groan followed, letting him know that her body was burning up from the inside out and she intended to absorb him so he could feel that heat.

After she leaned back over their lips locked and remained that way for the rest of the night, and that warmth within only burned hotter when there was another body to kindle it.

April woke straight up out of that dream. The intensity of it had her sweating, and she wasn’t sure if it was because her body throbbed from the fresh memory of the dream or if it was from the paranoia that she was in fact having naughty dreams about a certain purple-clad turtle—who was a very good _friend_ of hers.

“Get yourself together, girl,” April moaned as she pulled herself out of bed. Looking around at her room she realized there wasn’t much left of it. Most of it had already been packed up and tucked away in the station wagon. It was almost time to say goodbye. Crazy.

Shaking her head and glad for the easy forgetfulness of dreams, April moved into the bathroom to get herself ready for the day. Today was the day she was going to tour Amber Hills. The excitement was almost unbearable.

The first semester started in a week, but the faculty was allowing their students to set up their dorms and meet the professors. April, along with her parents, thought it was best she get a head start in the who’s who. That and it was a requirement to get screened before attending, so might as well get that out of the way before the madness of college curriculum overwhelmed her.

The college was a lot bigger than she thought it would be. After the low amount of invitations it sends out, April would expect a smaller, quaint abode instead of the multiple buildings she was touring through now. Surrounded in the lush foliage of upper state woods, the white columns and redbrick designs made the college seem so pristine and vintage. April was in love, and honestly couldn’t wait to start.

Her and her parents helped set up the final touches of her dorm. It was a room all to her own, even bigger than the one back at the apartment. The cafeteria, the library, the computer hall; all refined and up-to-date places that April was certain she’d find herself in regularly.

The last place she wanted to visit was the medical ward, obviously, but it was getting late and the drive home was already lengthy enough. So she sat through the pokes and prods of the on-staff doctor who looked as bored as she was.

“Look, I get why a school would want to screen their students, but I just don’t understand the necessity. I mean I’ve already been accepted, right?” April drawled on while rubbing at her arm where the needles drew her blood.

“Oh, we screen all of our students and staff members before each semester,” the man said. “In the fine lines it states that Amber Hills holds a right to reject and expel any of its tenants should any ailment be found that can hinder the performance of the staff and students. We actually used to not have this regulation until Dean Childelmiser hired on a cafeteria cook who had the sniffles. One sneeze in the Monday surprise and the entire lot of Amber Hills had to be shut down on the account of a two week diarrhea epidemic.”

April cringed at the notion, but accepted the college’s terms regardless. She was healthy as far as she knew, though it probably would have done her good to have had a recent doctor’s checkup other than last Christmas. Fingers crossed that her results came out clean.

Watching ardently, April observed the way the school doctor looked over the results. His facial expressions didn’t change until his eyes glanced down at the last column. Great, what now?

Looking back, the doctor let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ms. O’Neil, but there’s no way we can allow you admittance under your current condition.”

“Current condition?” April questioned. “Is this because of my dizzy spell last week? Look that was just some bad sushi. A bug that I got over . . . am getting over . . .” Was she being rejected?

“Yes, well this current condition takes about nine months to ‘get over’.” The doctor paused for a moment to read over something else. “In this case; five months.”

He handed over the conclusive results to the baffled teenager, and as April looked it over her brain scratched itself over trying to make any sense of it all.

“Pregnant?” She looked at the man with confused-riddled eyes. “These papers are saying I’m pregnant.”

The doctor nodded. “They’re test results, that’s what they do.”

April laughed then. She looked at the doctor who sat solemnly in front of her and she just laughed. It was hysterical after all, especially when she looked down at the sheets that read off her results and the state of her health. The last wording indicating her supposed pregnancy was the funniest of them all.

When her laughter had dialed down, April spoke, saying, “Listen, doc, doctor, I can’t be pre—that word—because, because . . .” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I’m still a virgin.”

“Then congratulations, you’re the Virgin Mary. You’re pregnant, Ms. O’Neil.”

Rejected. April O’Neil was rejected from Amber Hills over the faulty account that she was pregnant. Her. Pregnant. A baby. She wasn’t having no baby. Was she?

It was late when she and her parents got back home, but at least the drugstores were still open. She took her largest hoodie, the money she stashed away in her piggybank, and the ruse that she was taking Mayhem for a midnight walk to hit up the closest drugstore for some merchandise. Fine, pregnancy tests. She bought a whole bunch of pregnancy tests.

In the confines of her bathroom she took each and every one. She was absolutely horrified that they all came back positive. All of them.

Pregnant? How could April be pregnant? Looking down, April didn’t notice anything unusual about her stomach besides the stress chub she’d put on through the summer after gouging on pizza rolls and pretzels. It was because she was nervous/excited about her upcoming college semester, NOT because she had a little minion telling her to eat for two.

What on earth is happening?!

Pulling out her watch she began hitting buttons. She hadn’t read the lengthy owner’s manual because who had time? Especially during an issue like this. So she wasn’t sure if she was pressing the right one and when one panel clicked to then activate a retinal and bodily scan, April was near blinded for a minute.

She groaned in frustration after she blinked her eyes back into sight. “Donnie, where is your stupid speed dial?!” The next button she pressed suddenly issued a ring. April might have found it. “Come on, come on! Pick up!” After four agonizing rings, the call was finally answered.

In the answer a holographic figure formed beside the version of herself that was recently scanned and constructed. There stood Donatello, looking up at her.

‘ _You called, April?_ ’

“You better get over here right now with all the tech you got! I’ve got issues that need examining and explaining!” In her expressive exclamation, her holographic image mirrored her and to an interesting view made Donatello’s own holographic form cower away. “I’m still waiting!!”

‘ _Ahh! I’ll be over right away, April!_ ’ the teary-eyed figure said before flickering away.

April had to wait a whole of twelve minutes before the turtle showed up. Twelve minutes too much. With a grumble and tightly crossed arms she glared at the technician whose arms were full of his constructed contraptions.

“I’m here, I’m here! What do you need?” His eyes were wide and in his rush toward her he constantly dropped something out of his arms.

“Shush!” April slapped a hand over his mouth. “Mom and dad don’t like their beauty sleep interrupted.” She hooked her arm around his and dragged him back toward her room. As soon as the door was slammed— _shut_ —April sat herself down on her bed, her arms still tightly crossed. “Now hurry up and examine me.”

Donatello nodded and began setting up his mobile station. “What seems to be the problem?” Wary eyes glanced back toward her for a moment. “If I may ask?” April’s face scrunched further, making the turtle flinch. “Yeeeah, okay, you don’t have to tell me. That’s fine. I like surprises.”

“Donnie,” April began when Donatello moved toward her with a ray scanner. “This summer had been one of the most exciting and best times of my life. You four made sure of that. But we did hit some odd roadblocks in the sense of typical villains we’ve all unfortunately made, and I think that maybe one of ‘em did something to me.”

Donatello looked up at her through his goggles. “Like what?”

April closed her eyes for a moment and let out a breath. When she looked back she noticed he was still looking at her expectantly. There was even worry in his eyes despite the goggles concealing them. “I got rejected from Amber Hills today.”

Goggles pushed up, Donatello stared at her with wide eyes. “What? Why?”

April wasn’t one to cry over anything, but the tears were there because she was just so frustrated and confused and scared. “I failed my health screening because I’m pregnant.” Sniffling, she even pulled out the tests she recently took and dropped them into her lap. “I don’t know what’s going on, Donnie. I think maybe one of our foes implanted a parasite or something. It’s gotta be that, right?”

She could tell Donatello’s mind went blank for a moment. It was hard to read those intelligent eyes of his. But when he shook away his stupefy, he internally calculated and collected his thoughts. “Yeah,” he said softly. “April, do you think you can lay back for me? I’m going to do a full body scan.”

April nodded and did as she was told. She knew Donatello was no doctor, but she trusted him now more than ever. Her eyes watched him as he worked, hoping he could find out what was really wrong with her.

After every possible scan was done, Donatello moved back to his station to enter in the data points and assessments. The room was uncomfortably silent as they waited for his computer to spit out the answers they were worried over. When it did, April was there immediately, trying to look around him.

“What’s it say, D? Is it a parasite? And if it is, do you know how to get rid of it?”

She watched Donatello straighten, and when he turned to her there was a look on his face. She couldn’t believe it, even after he said it. “I’ve never really delved into this part of biology before—technological speaking—so I downloaded a few million doctoral files to make sure my algorithms were on par. They were, and they all said the same thing.” He pulled up the results on the screen. “You’re expecting, April.” He looked so sad, disappointed even. And April wondered if it was in himself or in her. “I suppose an issue of congratulation is in order. That’s the traditional response, right?”

April stood wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Even Donatello. With a shake of her head, April resolved herself. She wouldn’t accept this outcome, she just couldn’t. “What? No, no, no, no, NO! Donnie, I can’t be. There’s got to be a mistake.”

Donatello sighed. “It’s alright, April. There’s no need to deny it. And I think it’s best you tell the father too.”

The father? April paused, suddenly Jennifer Collins came to mind and her response of being uncertain of her baby’s father—just like she was right now. Oh God! The father!

“Wait.” April sat down on the corner of her bed, rubbing her temples. “That’s another issue.” She looked up at Donatello. “I don’t know who the father is. I haven’t . . . Donnie, I haven’t _been_ with anyone.” With a flash of heat throughout her face she relented. “As far as I knew I was still a virgin.”

April sighed, her hand rubbing along her belly as if she could feel whatever was inside her. Completely oblivious to the confused look Donatello was giving her. “The doctor said I was about four months along.” Wait . . . April’s eyes roamed her memories, and calculated the dates. Did that mean . . .? “But that would put it around . . .”

“Prom.” Both April and Donatello concluded at the same time. They looked at each other with confusion before April noticed Donatello’s gaze retreat and his expressions close off to her. What was even going on?

“Oh my god!” April jumped to her feet and began unsteadily pacing. “Do you think it’s like Jennifer? Maybe I was with someone. I can’t remember, but what if I was?” She looked at Donatello to help her unravel this mystery but every time her eyes met his he turned them away.

“That’s a possibility,” he said with a nervous smile.

With a blink, April remembered a crucial clue that could help. “You were with me that night. What time did you leave me alone? Maybe I met up with someone after you left.”

Donatello still wouldn’t look at her expectant gaze. He only shook his head. “Uuh, it’s a little fuzzy, but I think I left late. Yep, very late.”

April groaned. “What kind of answer is that? I’m trying to figure out who sullied my honor here, D.” She reached out and took a hold of his plastron, pulling him close and making sure his eyes met her threatening gaze. However, while April’s intention was to frighten him into working with her, their eye lock reminded her of something, something that was hard to recall but April remembered it in an odd sort of way, and just right then that same tenderness she remembered seeing in those eyes on that night was coming back right then. It made April double back and release Donatello.

“Donnie . . .” Now April was having a hard time looking at him. “ _When_ did you leave that night?”

“I’m . . . not sure,” she heard him say.

“I know we were both wasted, but we’ve got to remember something.” she said. She peaked a glance toward him and noticed he was looking at her in the strangest of ways. The moment he noticed she had caught him, he turned away again.

“It’s hard to, alright,” he said.

April finally swallowed down the awkwardness of it all and forced herself to look at him. “Is it though? Or do you just not want to tell me?”

Donatello looked at her. He was worried. She could see it in his eyes. “I would never keep something from you.”

“But you’re doing it right now,” she said. She could feel tears welling up. What did he know? And why wasn’t he telling her? With Donatello keeping secrets, it hurt to know he felt she couldn’t be trusted with them.

The sight of the tears must have spurred something within the turtle because he came closer until he was an arm’s reach away. “Don’t cry, April, I . . .”

“You what?” April looked up at him with red eyes. “You _what_ , Donnie? Why won’t you tell me?” Raising her hands, she took off her glasses and began rubbing her eyes. “I’m going to have a baby, and I don’t even know how it happened. That’s the scariest thing ever and you’re just standing there . . . you’re just standing there . . .”

Her teary eyes blinked wide when she felt Donatello embrace her. He was warm, and with him just being there comforted her. She almost laughed when she felt a cloth rub against her cheek. Donatello’s handy dandy handkerchief.

“I’m here,” he said. “And I’m sorry for the way I was acting.”

April snorted into the handkerchief as she leaned back a little to look up at Donatello. His arms around her felt nice, and the warmth from his shell was a relief to her shaking body. It all felt so pleasant, so familiar . . . wait a minute . . .

With tears on hold, April’s red eyes ran up along the turtle. Donatello blinked in confusion. “What?” he questioned. But April remembered his embrace.

Pulling back, April asked, “When did you leave on that night, Donnie?”

Once again Donatello reverted back to his defenses. He rose his hands. “I told you before it was fuzzy.”

“When did you leave, Donatello?!” April’s tone was louder, ignoring her previous concern about her parents’ sleep.

“Alright! I left at 7:36 in the morning,” he finally admitted.

April blinked in surprise. She was speechless for the time she put the pieces back together. “You were with me all night?”

Donatello gave her one guilty look and then turned away with a nod of his head.

April gasped, taking another step back. “You were with me all night.” It couldn’t be. Could it? Looking back at the turtle, April’s eyes scanned him over. Well, he was human enough she guessed. “Donnie, did you . . . did we?”

That was when Donatello let out a nervous laugh. He looked at her. “Oho, no, no, no. I am not the father of your child. There’s too many biological differences for us to . . . to . . . _that_.”

April’s eyes narrowed while a frown set in. “You calling me a tramp?” As if she sleeps around, ha!

Donatello’s eyes widened and he was quick to shake his head and hands. “What? No, no! But I—”

“Did we _do it_ that night?” April pressed.

Donatello snorted. “That’s a crude way to put it, and I’ll have you know I’m not fond of that sort of lingo—”

“Donnie!”

“Ah! Yes, yes we did!” Donatello looked so frightened that April could have sworn she could hear his knees knocking together. “But you initiated the second and third round.” April let out a gasp. “Okay, I lied, I initiated the third round.”

Falling down back onto her springy mattress, April let her mind wander to save itself. She really didn’t have much memory of that night, and those unusual dreams that came afterwards were blamed on her shameful hormones. Holy cow . . . those weren’t dreams, were they?

Looking back at Donatello, she could see his worry. He was afraid of how she’d react, and he ought to be. The jerk he was for not telling her these things. But three times? They went at it _three_ times?

“Donnie,” April said with her most solemn tone she could muster in that moment. “I’m pregnant. There wasn’t anyone else.” She looked at him. “I’m gonna be a mama, and you’re gonna be a papa.” God, what was her parents going to say?

“But April—”

“What?” The tears were back as soon as she looked at him. “It’s impossible? Clearly it isn’t because every result came back and slapped us both in the face. You done knocked me up, okay!” Both hands were covering her eyes as she cried. “If you wouldn’t have showed up with that stupid invention of yours then I would never . . . we would never . . .” Sobs came now and while she was upset and scared and so very mad at Donatello, she didn’t shake him off the moment he came beside her and offered her comfort. In fact she flung herself at him and let him embrace her like he had before all those months ago.


	6. Announcement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so much for all of the love and feedback! I'm glad you're all enjoying the story. This chapter may be short, but this fic's definitely got a ways to go still. Please hang on tight with me!

Home was meant to stand as a place of solitude, a sanctuary from the frustrations of reality and an area of utmost comfort, yet there Donatello stood, shaking at the very thought of walking into the lair and the embrace of his family. It was only the sound of a clearing throat that pulled his head above the waters of dread for a moment. Beside him stood April, looking at him expectantly.

"Aren't we going to go in?" She blinked her wide eyes, clearly not understanding the severity of his mounting anxiety.

"Just . . . just give me a moment." Donatello was on the verge of taking in a deep inhale hadn't April rolled her eyes and head.

"Are you serious? What are you so scared of? It's the guys. It can't be as bad as telling my parents."

Donatello's mind went back to that morning when he and April had been forced to wake up the O'Neils to tell them of their unfortunate discovery. The memory of it all sent another shiver throughout the turtle.

"I know!" Donatello said, rubbing his fingers together. "But what if they're upset with me? What if dad's ashamed? I barely made it out of your apartment with my soul. I've never seen Mr. O'Neil look so disappointed . . . and at me . . ." Shoulders slumped, Donatello wasn't one to wave in the white flag of defeat, but this kind of battle was just taking its toll on him.

"They've got to know," April said. Donatello looked at her when he felt her hand on his arm. She touched him lightly, lighter than she usually would which frustrated him further, but he kept those feelings a secret. He didn't need to upset their situation further, nor himself.

Donatello sighed. "I know."

Upon entering the lair, they found the boys first. They were in the center playing around on skateboards and rollerblades. But as soon as their eyes caught sight of April they immediately halted their activities and bound to her with wide smiles.

"April!" Michelangelo threw his arms around her and nearly swung off of her shoulders. He missed the way Donatello glared at him, in fact, they all did. "You're here early. Which is great! You think you got time to hit the parks up top? I've been practicing on this sick move for two weeks. I think I got it down."

April's smile was strained as she untangled the youngest turtle from off of her. "Maybe some other time, Mikey."

"Hey, weren't you going to visit Amber Hills this week? Did you already? How was it?" Leonardo's boundless questions began to push the human further back into her proverbial shell. Donatello stood next to her feeling just as uneasy, though through his stoic expression it was hard to discern.

"Forget about that, we've got plans," Raphael said, his jagged smile beaming toward April. "We know you're outta here soon, but summer's not over yet, and we've each made up some plans to do with you before you go. We drew straws and I got first pickings."

"You guys!" Donatello's bout silenced his excited brothers, but it didn't ease his racing heart. "April can't be doing strenuous activity, not anymore." He looked at April for a moment. Their eyes met with edging anticipation. Woo, he could do this.

"Why?" Leonardo rose a brow, examining April. "You twist an ankle? Pull a muscle?"

"Yes."

April blinked, looking up at Donatello quizzically. She said nothing though, not even as his body locked in paranoid fright. Woo, he could _not_ do this.

Stiffly, almost robotically, Donatello moved. His arms reached out and he laid his hands on April. There was a short exclamation of, "Donnie, what . . .?" before he shifted and took her completely into his arms.

"Twisted ankle, strained muscles, snapped Achilles tendons, all of that. So why are you on your feet, April? No, no, can't have that. You need to be resting so you can get better. And what better place for ultimate comfort than in my lab."

Without further warning he hiked himself and April away into his room. There were noises left from his brothers behind him, and a vicious glare from the woman in his arms. Especially as he slid her out of his embrace the moment it took him to slide the privacy curtain back in his room.

"What on earth are you doing?!" April was all arms in this bout. It was strange to even imagine her currently carrying a child inside her. She didn't look much different than she did when she wasn't . . . expecting.

The notion of that unchangeable truth was almost laughable, because it just seemed so unreal. But it was. Oh, it was. April was pregnant. She was going to be a mother. She was going to have a child. His child. Donatello was going to be a father.

Oh sweet mercy . . .

April made a face, her body leaning away. "Oh, are you gonna be sick? Not really easy to tell since you're . . . green and all . . . but you look queasy there."

"Just give me a moment." Donatello was rubbing a hand over his face, trying to fight the numbness he felt caused by the extreme anxiety coursing through him. He swayed on unsteady feet before he leaned over toward his desk and chair, seating himself before he fell over completely. But the trouble in his stomach never settled.

The hands that came to rest on his shoulders and the fingers than pressed in to massage tense muscle was immensely appreciated and helped sate Donatello's rattled nerves if ever so slightly. That calm-chasing sigh finally came out as he leaned back in his chair, neck arched just enough to look up and see the one that always made his heart race.

"Doing a little better?" She asked in a tone uncharacteristically sweeter than usual. Not that Donatello minded. What was more interesting than her charming demeanor was the fact that he managed to pull out a smile in these trying times.

With a nod, Donatello said, "A fraction."

April's smile never faltered. "Good, because now we've got to focus on the matter at hand." Though it did lose its essence of pleasantry. That was when her sharp nails dug into his skin. "Which is telling your family that we're gonna have a baby!"

Natural reaction for any turtle to danger was to retreat back into their shell, this instinct carried on even into the likes of Donatello, but April's been around him and his brothers long enough to know the signs of this triggered reflex, and so just as he began to retract himself, her fingers dug into his jaw, holding him still.

"Oh, no, you're going to have to face the music with me." She huffed. "Honestly, Donnie, you're more nervous than you were in front of my dad? What do you even think's going to happen?"

"I don't know!" Donatello leaned away, throwing his arms into the air over his frustration. "Leo's bound to make some sort of embarrassing innuendo, it's going to take exactly two and three weeks to explain how babies are formed to Raph, and Mikey's going to push you into a premature labor over his incessant urge to hold the child. And then there's dad . . ." Donatello's eyes widened at the notion of telling his father. And then came the fantasies of his reaction. Dear God. "I can't do this, April. I can't tell my brothers, much less dad. Do you even know what he said to me in my head?"

April looked at him with crossed arms and no-nonsense eyes. Clearly she didn't understand just how bad this could be.

"Don't you see? I've brought shame to this family . . . to the Hamato Clan!" Donatello's eyes were wide, his expressions livid. "It's either banishment or death."

April blinked. "Say what?"

Donatello rose and then began pressing buttons and pulling levers on his console. "That's fine. I've been prepared just in case something like this would happen."

Suddenly his belongings began to self-pack themselves. In the end everything fit inside five neat suitcases. Donatello picked up two and turned to April. There was determination in his expressions.

"I've already logged seven locations that'll be suitable for us to remain during the remaining trimesters. All conveniently located within the state of New York, but just outside the city in case you want to visit your family."

April doubled back this time. "Okay, now I think you're overreacting a little. D, there's no need to hightail it out of here. I really think that big brain of yours goes through an unnecessary amount of scenarios. Plus, if you think I'm going to live on some farm out in the middle of nowhere, you've got another thing coming to you."

Donatello sighed, dropping the luggage. "You're right. The only other option to keep my honor is the act of seppuku." While a screw wasn't the ideal choice for the ritual, it was the sharpest thing Donatello had on his person. Though the tool was quickly slapped out of his hand before he could proceed any further with his grim plans. "Hhh, thank you, April, I really didn't want to go out that way."

"Look, we are not running away and no one is getting out of this via a rusty screw." April huffed. Her upset was only there for a moment before her sensitivity to Donatello's unstable spirit heightened. "Serious, Donnie, are you really that afraid of what they'll say?"

Donatello looked down. He nodded shortly and then shrugged. "It's like you said, I mentally hypothesize too much, and with so many; one of those outcomes is bound to happen. And none of them come out with me in one piece."

He fell back down into his desk chair. He felt more worn and beat than he looked, though he looked pretty close to how he felt. His silence must have unnerved his bedroom guest because April leaned closer.

"Donnie?" she asked, but when she wasn't answered within the usual millisecond, she took a few more steps closer. "You're not quitting on me, are you?"

She was nervous. Donatello could detect a higher pulse, a quicker beat in her heart. He knew she didn't want to tell them, and he couldn't blame her. He didn't want her to either. It was his responsibility, but so was she and the . . . the . . . ba . . . the bab . . . _that_.

"You can't just hide away from all this." April huffed, rolling her eyes throughout the expanse of his room. Her eyes ended up downward. She was looking at her abdomen, and when she moved a hesitant hand to lay over her center, Donatello felt his heart skip a beat. She had looked like she was going to smile for a moment, but it faded quickly. "I mean, the least you can do is hide for another five months."

The reminder of the time crunch struck some sort of nerve within the turtle. Not necessarily one out of frustration, but one that hiked the chill in his body and made the throb behind his skull pound a little harder.

Leaning forward, Donatello looked at April and shook his head. "You don't think I know that? Five months, I've got a measly _five months_ to prepare not only my mental state but my entire family's IQ on infancy for all of this. I don't get it. Four months, April? How could you not tell after _four months_? Don't girls usually have some sort of Morse code diagram that keeps track of their fertility?"

April blinked. "Morse code?"

"You know, with dashes and periods."

April deadpanned. "Periods, Donnie. It's called periods." She sighed. "And I was just so busy with college preparation and having fun with you guys that I lost track. I'm sorry, alright." She was quiet for a time after that small outburst. Quiet for just the right amount of time to fall in and let the boiling hysteria simmer down. "I know you're worried. Believe it or not, so am I. But you sat there right next to me as we told mom and dad, so if you can soldier through that rough morning maybe you'd feel up to taking on the next round: telling the guys."

Donatello's eyes focused when April laid her hand over his. The touch seemed to stop the outward and inward shaking, He looked up at her. There was no malice in her expressions this time.

"Besides," April said. "I'll be right beside you, just like before."

He wouldn't let that adrenaline passing through his racing heart escape the moment. Donatello's incentive was enough, especially when she was smiling at him like that. It was that short-lived spurt of courage that pulled him and April along back out into the family room. They located his brothers seated in front of the projector where they were too busy playing finger football with his holographic Jupiter Jim trading cards—oh, they will pay once Donatello's brain moves away from the more serious issues at hand and properly formulates a plan for such punishment!—and his father was seated in his recliner, currently yelling at the three to pipe down so he could hear his show.

All yelling and the flick football stopped the moment the background noise brought in from Splinter's game show went dead. Raphael, Leonardo, and Michelangelo blinked in confusion while Splinter looked around with the meanest eyes.

"Who dares touch my 6:30 show? I will inflict a thousand pains upon you so severe that your descendants will feel it a hundred years from now!" Splinter was already standing atop his chair, fists raised, stance secure.

"It twas I, father." Donatello's appearance in front of the wall where the screen once was turned heads only because of the coordinated spotlight he programmed on himself. The effect worked to enhance the shock.

"Explain, Purple!" Splinter complained.

With a quick glance to his left where April stood just out of light, Donatello tried to tape his leaking dam of resolve back together so it could hold for a little longer. "I will explain myself! And it's a very good explanation. One that will likely shock you all, but one that I want absolute sobriety and open mindedness from everyone, because this is something I will admit was not planned nor wise on my part. I'm not one to assume I'm never wrong, though I am right 99.0004% of the time, but this time was different and I blame my own inhibitions and lack of self-control for all that happened and all that will happen as a result of it. While this will inadvertently affect each of you in different ways and levels, I want to at first offer my deepest remorse for putting you in this position. I honestly can't imagine what it must be like to watch all this unfold, and I apologize a thousand times over for this upended situation, but I can't explain myself any further than what I'm about to disclose upon you now—"

April must have realized Donatello was stalling over his stumble of words, and while her sudden quip cut him off in the most uncouth of senses, it certainly got the point of their interruption across. After all, it was the whole reason they both went back to the lair that day.

"We're pregnant!"

And just like Donatello had predicted; a familial blank look spread across every turtle and rat face.


	7. Doctor's Appointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I was just so stuck on this chapter and even still I'm very "meh" about it. But it's done and out. Enjoy!

"Rattlers?"

"Check!" Michelangelo sounded off with a shake or two from the infant toys.

"Pacifiers?" Raphael looked expectantly at his youngest brother who held up a multitude of the devices.

"Cheeeck~"

Raphael nodded, scratching off another item on his overly long sheet of paper. "What about the formula mixture?" This time he looked toward Leonardo.

The one in blue swayed his head and pulled up bundles of groceries. "You guys need to get your priorities straight. Diapers. Each of you forgot the diapers. So of course I took the liberty to grab some. Yeesh, you're going to be horrible fathers."

"But we're not. That's Donnie's duty. _And_ his problem." Raphael crossed his arms, nodding over toward their anxiety-riddled brother who looked on the verge of collapsing, both figuratively and mentally. Just like he had after April dropped the news.

Donatello hadn't said a word since the reveal. He was quiet even when April stole away and went back home. He didn't do much either aside from sit in the corner and let that mind wheel of his run on overdrive.

It was a little concerning, but his family felt it best to give him his space and peace—for at least an hour. That hour was up.

"Sooo . . ." Naturally Leonardo was the first to saunter over, even daring to wind an arm around his purple-titled brother. "You gotta tell us, what's it like? I mean, you're gonna be Splinter soon." The odd looks from his two other brothers forced him to explain his cryptic statement. "Dad; he's gonna be dad. Well, someone's going to call him dad. Crazy, right?"

The pinch to Donatello's cheek seemed to pull him out of the dark recess of his mind. With a jerk, Donatello pushed his younger brother away. His eyes were on fire and wet at the same time.

"Why do you always do this? It's like everything's a joke to you. This isn't a joke, Leonardo! Nor is it funny!"

"Hey, hey, none of us are laughing, bro." Leonardo rose his hands to show his peace, but Donatello was in a mood, a fine mighty one.

"Oh it's "bro" now, is it? Just a second ago you were sure my name was Splinter!"

"I was just messin' around."

"So you _were_ joking!"

"I was trying to make you smile. You don't look the same without that witty grin of yours." Leonardo even attempted to pull at his brother's cheeks in a forced attempt to form said smile. Once again, Donatello smacked him away.

“That is enough, Blue!” Splinter’s demanding tone helped to settle the mounting scuffle as well as squash any future attempt from Leonardo’s position to carry on. “And you, Purple, need to stop being so hostile. While they lack a polite means to say it, your brothers mean well. Already they are accepting to partake in your tedious responsibilities. You should be grateful that they are doing at least that.”

Donatello blinked until his eyes fell, once again staring at the floor. After a breathy sigh, he tried to collect himself. “I’m sorry, dad, but it’s just . . . there’s so much to take in, to accept. It’s hard.”

Splinter came close, his head nodding. He reached out and placed a clawed hand on his son’s arm. It was enough to get Donatello to look at him. “The sands of fate often shift, and the reality of fatherhood comes whether we are ready for it or not. I too was unsuspecting and ill-prepared when you four came into my life, but I believe there is a time and place for everything. Though I think the time is quite inappropriate considering how young you and April both are, I cannot deny something as unmoving as destiny.” Splinter patted him again, his words received just a twitch of the lips from Donatello, but nothing as desirable like a lifted heart. “This happened for a reason, my son.”

“Yeah, seriously, haven’t you been crushing on April for years?” Came Leonardo’s airy comment. “Being her baby daddy kinda gives you a permanent spot in her life. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Even as Splinter turned to confront his younger son about the tasteless comment, Donatello already snapped his head toward him and shot him a glare. “Shut up, Leo!”

Leonardo only threw up his arms. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?” His response deflated Donatello. Those eyes of his fell again, shoulders slumping even.

“Yeah,” Donatello responded in a voice too uncharacteristically timid for him. “But not like this.”

. . .

After the terms and conditions were discovered, relayed, and accepted, April finally felt the subtle pangs of hunger creep around her stress-riddled senses and spur an urge in her to move toward the kitchen. A PB sandwich sounded nice, along with a glass of orange juice. However, the moment she opened the pantry to scour for the necessary items to construct her meal, she found a completely different inventory than what she was used to.

“Um, mom?” April twisted around, stretching to peek into the dining room where she knew her mother was. “Why is there a whole lotta cans of spinach in the pantry? And where’d you put the peanut butter?”

“Oh, that? It’s for you, sweetheart. You’re going to need a lot of greens during those upcoming trimesters of yours. Heaven knows my grandchild’s been deprived of decent nutrition with how you’ve been eating these last few months.”

April sighed. She might have known. That peanut buttery desire began to dwindle at the sight of all those tins of green mush, so she turned to her last bastion. The refrigerator.

She wanted just one glass of citrus, some good ole vitamin c, but even that became an impossibility. The pop, the iced coffee, even the fruit punch was gone. In their place was bags full of fresh spinach and smoothies blended green. So. Much. Green.

A color very much reminding of her baby’s father.

Not being able to stand the sight of so much single color, April slammed the fridge door. “Ugh! Mom, you can’t expect me just to eat spinach for the rest of my pregnancy!”

“Well I sure did when I was pregnant with you. I don’t see why you’d be much different.” The moment April leaned herself against the arch of the kitchen and stared out into the dining room, her mother locked eyes with her. She was sitting down at the table surrounded by various files. She was either working or crafting, neither April was interesting in finding out.

Rolling her eyes, April shook her head and then uncrossed her arms to point toward the slight round of her stomach. “For one: the little guy isn’t exactly human.” Technically the child would be half human—or two-thirds considering Donatello’s human DNA that contributed to his mutation. Or maybe it’d be a quarter. Oh! Who cares about finite detail? April’s child wasn’t human, not in the 100%-or-else scope of things. “There’s no way of telling what will happen or even what nutrition will be needed.”

April’s heart began to sink. That was right. This was a first. She was carrying mutant offspring, one likely very different in development to a human child. Her mother continued to act like it was going to be something familiar and normal, but April knew better and because of that her gut clenched with worry.

“That reminds me.” April watched her mother stand up. She maneuvered around the table and came closer to her daughter, her dark curls bouncing and that gentle smile never fading, even in April’s rising anxiety and doubt. “We’re going to need to get you to see an obstetrician. I’ve already made an appointment for this Friday.”

April blinked, her lips parting. “What part of not human don’t you understand? Mom, if a doctor takes a look at me, more precisely my baby, they’re going to flip out.”

April’s mother looked at her with sighing eyes. “April, you’d be surprised how open people are in this world. Besides, Dr. Clement has been a friend of the family for years. In fact he helped birth you into this world. How exciting would it be that he’d help you through your birth?”

A cringe rolled inside April’s chest. But with the way her mother smiled and nudged her in encouragement, she knew she didn’t have any other choice but to face the limelight of the doctor’s office. It was what was best for her and especially her child. But with the same doctor her mother had with her? Oh, that’s just weird and a little gross.

April should have said, “no.” When Friday came, she should have simply refused her mother. She was already overly embarrassed about her situation, not to mention nervous considering the parentage. And with the way her mentality rattled, she couldn’t even begin to try to adopt her mother’s more positive outlook at the moment. To cope, she demanded Donatello accompany her so that she’d have someone to talk to and excuse away taking in the numerous spinach shakes her mother continued to try to force down her throat. That and it kept her father’s skeptical eyes off of her.

“Okay.” April took a breath the moment she stepped out of the car. “Here I go.”

The hospital was a simple brick building, with a parking lot bigger than the square foot space it even had. Even still, it was the scariest place April’s ever seen or been to in her life. Her stomach was doing flips just standing there. Or, maybe that was the baby. Wait, could she even feel them at this stage?

“You alright?” April felt the lightest touch against her shoulder blade. Turning, she saw Donatello, well, his projected avatar. He “supposedly” fixed the bugs in his cloaking brooch.

April took the time to take in another breath. Even though bringing Donatello along leaned more toward scapegoat than anything else, April couldn’t help but feel his support. It made her twitch out a short smile.

“We’re gonna have to be.” She didn’t know how her hand subconsciously fell across her stomach, but Donatello’s sharp eyes saw it.

Just like outside, the interior was like a simple doctor’s office. Various patients nestled in the chairs around reading magazines, browsing through their phone apps. There were even a few kids crouched down on the floor playing with the toy sets designed to keep them occupied whilst their parents carried on with their health checks.

They waited there a good hour and a half before April’s name was called out. By that time she was a sweating mess, especially when they were simply taken back and seated down in yet another room and told to wait for the doctor.

“Doctor Lambert will be with you shortly,” the nurse said as she shut the door.

April blinked, looking toward her parents. “Dr. Lambert? Mom, I thought you said I was going to be seeing Dr. Clement.”

Her mother looked a little confused as well, but before she could get up and find out the reason for the sudden switch the door opened to reveal a tall standing figure whose doctoral robe puffed out as far as it could due to the wooly coat beneath. And if that didn’t move the four surprised sets of eyes to the realization of just _what_ this individual was then the wrapping horns sprouting out of the man’s forehead definitely make them understand.

“You . . . you’re a mutant.” Donatello stood up in surprise, more than a little warry as the ram-man closed the door behind them. His stance stepping before the O’Neils was endearing, and even in the strange and possibly worrisome situation, it sent an almost calming warmth down April’s chest.

“Yokai actually.” His voice was light and soft. He smiled at them quite causally. As he approached April he leaned down and gave her a short sniff. “Ah, the expecting mother. You must be April O’Neil.” At least the hand he offered didn’t have hoofs. Still, April was too taken aback by the situation as well as the uncomfortable notion of being sniffed to shake the offered hand.

“Did you just sniff me?”

Once again Donatello asserted his presence by puffing his chest and taking a step forward beside April to try and clear some space between her and the doctor. “Listen here, I think you’ve got the wrong room, pal.”

This time the doctor took the opportunity sniff the turtle. Similar to April; Donatello froze, not quite sure what the proper response should be in a situation like that.

“And the father.” The ram-man’s smile widened. “It’s good to see both parents participating in these sort of checkups. It’s a great bonding experience, and believe it or not but it’s quite healthy for the baby.” With that he moved toward the swivel chair and sat himself down. “I do apologize. I’m standing in for Dr. Clement because he felt I would be better suited for the job given the situation.” Once again his eyes roamed over toward Donatello. “Young man, there’s no need to continue your cloak. We’re all accepting here.”

Donatello looked reluctant and hesitated to do anything for some time. His questioning eyes mostly remained on Dr. Lambert before swaying over toward April who offered her best shrug. In the end it was no doubt the doctor’s open invitation and likely the glare from April’s father that encouraged Donatello to disarm his cloak.

As soon as vibrant green, tied purple, and hard shell became visible, Dr. Lambert’s round eyes widened. “Bless the nexus, you’re one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Oh, it is an honor to be the one to examine and maintain your mate.”

“Uh, she’s—she’s not my mate.” Even in green skin, it was easy to see how flustered Donatello was becoming.

Dr. Lambert looked confused. Even more so as he stared at an equally uncomfortable April. “Your girlfriend?”

April just sat there with her arms crossed and legs bouncing. “Not his girlfriend either. Look, are we going to do this? I mean, what do I have to do? Do I gotta put on one of those robe things or do you just need to draw blood?”

“Right, right.” For a yokai, Dr. Lambert was very professional. He knew a lot about the human anatomy and helped April through the tests he had her undergo, most of which were drawn from blood and urine samples. April was overtly glad she was spared the embarrassing moments of touch, yet at the time Dr. Lambert seemed more interested in asking questions and jotting down notes. Of course it was all necessary catchup for the neglected time she’s missed.

Leaning back, Dr. Lambert took a moment to go over his writing. With a nod he looked back at the expecting family. “Now that I’m caught up I’ve determined the maternal prescription you and your little ones will need to catch up on all those needed supplements. You’re deficient in a few areas, but we’ll get you back on track. I’ll take the time between our visits to delve deeper into the biology of this all just in case we miss anything important.”

“So then we done?” April was raring to go and as fast as possible. She didn’t know if it was the atmosphere, the smell, the expectant eyes on her, or the fact that her maternity doctor was a freakin’ sheep yokai that made her extremely uncomfortable and in need to hole up in her room under all her blankets with a bag full of peanut brownies to stave her.

“Just one more thing, Miss O’Neil.” April wanted to groan, but kept the rude sound to herself as the yokai’s beady black eyes looked her way. “If you’re comfortable with it, I would like to perform an ultrasound. You’re far enough along for me to spot any alarming abnormalities in the fetus, and it’ll help measure and monitor your child’s growth rate so we could predict a due date.”

Once again all eyes were on her. “Well?” April’s mother asked. “You want to do one?”

“It’s up to you,” her father then said. “We can always get one next time.”

Now April was looking at Donatello. He was quiet for most of the examination even given its lackluster procedures. But he was still just as wide-eyed as he was when he walked in with them, as if he were learning new things and trying to retain them. When their eyes met in the silence, his once calculating irises spoke to April with his own encouragement. After all, he wanted to make sure everything was fine—for both her and their child. Of course he would.

With a sigh, April nodded. “Alright, let’s get this thing over with.”

Dr. Lambert clapped his hands together. “Wonderful!” And as he moved to prepare the machine, April looked at Donatello again. His noticed nervousness was shared.

April let out a breath the moment she laid back on the table. “You ready to see our baby?” She wanted to smile, to try and retain the silliness of it all because this was silly. This whole notion of her being pregnant with Donatello’s child was absolute ridiculousness. That’s probably why her forced smile didn’t last long.

Before Donatello could even respond Dr. Lambert had motioned for April to raise her shirt. She did so modestly and allowed the ram-man to swab her with gel. As soon as the transducer rolled over her skin, the blank image on the screen Dr. Lambert was staring at began to swirl with an image.

It was hard for April to turn over and look at the projecting images. Especially with so many bodies surrounding the console.

Dr. Lambert shifted enough to lean toward Donatello. He even beckoned him close with a wave of his hand. “Does any of this look familiar?”

Donatello leaned closer, examining the screen with squinting eyes. “Judging by the size and mirror like appearance I’d say those are the kidneys.” Dr. Lambert nodded and moved the transducer a little toward the right. “That’s the bladder.” The transducer continued to move, as did the images. “That’s . . . I think that’s . . . maybe it’s the—”

“The womb,” Dr. Lambert said casually offering another encouraging nod to Donatello. “Do you see anything else, Donatello?”

For a moment all was quiet while Donatello examined the image. Dr. Lambert didn’t move too much and so the image remained to let the turtle take in all that it was revealing.

“I-I don’t know.” April could hear the uncertainty in Donatello’s voice. There had been excitement before for all of the new things he was being exposed to, but now it was anxious worry. “I’m not really sure what I’m looking at.”

Dr. Lambert leaned forward, tapping at the screen. “That’s a head.” He shifted again. “Right there’s a foot, with an arm over there. And the curve rounding down here is a—”

“Shell.” Donatello sounded stunned. That surprise was felt by every soul present. “It has a shell.”

By then, April really hadn’t pictured her child. Sure she might have accepted the fact that she was carrying more than a little extra pounds on her, but she never got around to actually envisioning her baby. It’s been on her mind—excessively as of late—but at the same time it hasn’t. Like she was subconsciously trying to resort back to her humdrum life and go through it as she always has. Hearing Donatello describe what he was seeing was eye-opening, even if she wasn’t looking at the screen, which she wasn’t. April had her wide eyes peeled to the ceiling above, feeling something coiling inside her stomach. She was worried, so very worried because all of these descriptions created something absolutely freakish in her mind, grotesque and hideous and pain riddled. For the first time since the discovery, April was absolutely terrified.

“Hmm, you’re so anthropomorphic I didn’t really think the child would inherit too many recessive traits.” Dr. Lambert typed in a few keys, likely saving the images. “This will be one interesting case. I’m quite excited to see how this pregnancy progresses.”

“April, did you see?” Donatello was turning. He looked excited. And April wanted to be happy for him. She wanted to stop herself from taking that excitement from him but she couldn’t help but push the transducer away and pull her shirt down, gel forgotten. “April? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just . . .” She tried to look at the others, but their worried faces made her turn away. Of course they were worried. She was the “expecting mother” after all. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

April did not in fact have to go to the bathroom. She in fact needed some fresh air. So she promptly took herself out of the clinic, past the parking lot and a block down toward the park where she sat herself on a bench in the shade, trying to find some semblance of peace.

A grumbling in her stomach tried to remind her she was hungry, but it only pulled her torn mind toward the conjured image of her child. Something sickly, with claws and fangs and a razor sharp shell that would only tear her from the inside out. The image made her shiver. But then there was something deep down inside her, a persona she hasn’t properly met yet telling her she was overreacting and that what was inside her was healthy and something that would only bring her joy the bigger and stronger it grew until it was ready to be in her arms.

“I’m not a mama yet,” April said with a heavy sigh. Her eyes loomed down toward her pooch. This was only the beginning—or midway point. She certainly wasn’t ready for this, but she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t get it together and push forward for her sake and the sake of the life inside her. “Sorry, buddy, but I’ve got a lot on my mind. You just keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll figure this out . . . I think.” Her hand went to rub. It was a weird notion, but excusable.

“April.”

Turning in the bench, April met a young man with dark hair and thick eyebrows. Donatello’s avatar favored the famous movie star Lou Jitsu for obvious reasons, but as he came and sat beside her, his presence—or at least image—only reminded April of his appearance at the dance, and the consequence of it all.

“Couldn’t find you, so I thought you got out to get some air.” Donatello glanced at her for a moment before looking down at the grass beneath the bench. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No, you didn’t.” April shook her head. She looked at Donatello because she had to face him. She had to face _this_. Hiding or denying it all wouldn’t make it go away.

“Then why’d you run away?”

April paused. Of course he was right in that sense. He knew her just like she knew him.

“Okay.” April sighed, slumping her shoulders. “So maybe I was a little turned off. And why wouldn’t I be? You said the baby’s got a shell. How am I supposed to, you know, birth that?”

“That’s something your parents were talking about with Dr. Lambert.” Donatello was leaning in, trying to spout every solution to each rising problem. “They mentioned caesarian and the doctor was suggesting yokai shifter births where they take mulita crystals and—”

“Stop! Just stop, alright.” Donatello obeyed, but he stared on in worry until April caught herself and told her what was wrong. “It’s all of that, you know, what’s got me . . . a little scared. This is all still so new, so sudden. I know it has to be after so many months left unchecked, but it’s . . . it’s a lot to take in.”

Donatello didn’t exclaim a solution to that problem plaguing April. He was quiet, understanding. He listened to her and April knew he shared in her inner worry.

“April.” Dark eyes turned back toward the boy sitting next to her. Even though he looked human, in April’s eyes, she saw Donatello perfectly. “I’m really sorry for all of this.” When he looked at her he told her more than his apologies. He shared with her his fright, his worry, his anxiety, and his love for her, as well as the developing affection for the life coming between them.

April finally managed to smile at that. “You sounded excited when you saw the kid.” She leaned over, jabbing her elbow at him. Her smile held when she watched Donatello’s lips curl at the change of subject. She even caught that shimmer in his eyes.

“Sonographic imaging might be a little stone age, but that was the best picture I ever saw. April, it was so clear I swear I almost saw the eyes! The arm was out like this, and its feet were crossed. How cool would it have been if we caught it move, huh!”

April held her smile for a little while longer because of that warm sensation flowing through her chest and pushing away the previous fright, and because right then and there she knew Donatello was going to make a great father.

“Dr. Lambert even gave me a picture. Do you want to see?”

April blinked. That monstrous image in her head was shoved away as she nodded, leaning against Donatello’s shoulder while he pulled out the simple piece of printer paper with a dark image scrawled across. It was the first time she got to see the child.

There she sat, letting Donatello show her where the body parts were before April tried to flip it upside down to try and make out the image. He explained everything perfectly, taking pointers from Dr. Lambert’s knowledge no doubt, but this way was comforting, much more than when she was laid down in the office, watching her family gawk and comment about things that just didn’t sound like they were a part of her. It was all so easy to accept things like this. And now the child’s image in her head wasn’t as menacing.

The easing stress and the lowering anxiety helped April relax her taut muscles. Slumping over, she leaned her weight heavier against Donatello, her head now lulled against his shoulder as if it were a pillow. She felt slight strain from the turtle’s muscles, but in the following moment he too relaxed and supported her like she knew he would.

“Hhh, how are we gonna get through this, D?” April blinked, staring out into the distance, trying her hardest to picture their future—all three of theirs.

Hearing Donatello snicker borderline irked her and borderline made April want to join in with her own chortle. “We’re not,” he replied. “At least not in one piece.”

“That’s fine,” April said. “As long as there’s still a little bit of us left is all that matters.”

Donatello paused for a moment before he replied with a, “Yeah.” And then there was city park silence. They sat there like that for some time. April’s parents hadn’t come for them, or they just hadn’t managed to find them yet. That was fine, because April didn’t have to heart to move.

“Donnie.”

“Yes, April?”

“Thanks for coming.”

Donatello smiled at her. “Would you mind if I come to the next appointment?”

April smiled back. “Of course not. Though, you might need to hold my hand.” She laughed at herself and at how she had reacted that day. But her giggling died down when she felt fingers wrap around hers. She looked up, Donatello was looking at her with those soft eyes again.

“I can do that,” he said. “As long as you promise to hold mine too.”

April smiled, grasping his hand back. She could do that.


End file.
